The last thing we’ll pack is the bed, leaned
against the U-Haul wall like a safety precaution
for our other boxes. We’ll pace and pass around
it all day, busily postponing one final addition
to the load before latching the door and leaving.
The mattress will watch us ignore it desperately.
Silly kids, still. Foolish even as adults. We delay
our comfort, our peace, our pleasure, our place.
One last night of use in this room, squarely
situated amongst all our nothing, the soft waiting
of our newness.